If Things Were Different
by Novelette Consonance
Summary: What if Loren really felt something for Zoey? What if he fought against Neferet? Would he survive? Would she choose him, the first male vampyre poet laureate in 200 years? What if everything he had ever done or said took on a new light? Would he survive?
1. Artwork

****AN: Disclaimer: I do not own the House of Night series, any of its books, characters, or affiliates. Only this particular plot is mine. Ok so this is just a piece I came up with while I was working on "Burned and Broken", which is my version of "Burned", so here goes. I was going to put it off until I had finished that one, but there are too many ideas bouncing around in my head. This starts at the beginning off "Betrayed" and follows through the series. It's not going to be the same plot or a Loren POV thing. I'm just starting out with the outline in the books and running with it. Happy Reading! NC****

Loren

"Students and professors, please make your way to the reception hall. It is now time for this month's parent visits**,"** Neferet's voice echoed across the school via the intercom. I sighed. I hated parent visits. The humans looked around at us like we were going to lead them into the dining hall and start to feed on them. They wish. Though, there were a few parents that were somewhat affectionate towards their children.

Almost as if to prove a point, a blonde woman yelled into the crowd, _"_Stevie Rae! Stevie Rae! Ohmygosh I have missed you!"

I turned around just in time to see a miniature version of the woman go flying into her arms, "Mama!" I watched their happy conversation for a moment before the girl, Stevie Rae, suddenly smacked her forehead and grabbed her mother's hand. Dragging her over the food table she said, "Mama! You have to meet my roommate. Remember I told you about her? This is Zoey Redbird. Zoey this is my mama." Stevie Rae waved her hand like a game show hostess at each of them.

Zoey Redbird… Zoey Redbird… Why does that name sound so familiar? As the girl turned around, I realized why I should remember that name. The girl that turned around was beautiful. Intricate spiraling tattoos peppered her face, gracefully swirling into the fill in crescent moon gracing the center of her forehead. Gorgeous olive skin, heavy Cherokee features, and dazzling, striking, stubborn, hazel eyes. There was a fire in them that right now lay simmered in the back, but soon, I could feel it, soon they would be lit in a burning blaze. Something about her said she was uncomfortable. But that didn't make sense. Why would she be uncomfortable with her best friend?

I studied her frame. Not out of anything sexual, but poetically. I liked to focus on the minute details. Her back was straight; not ramrod, but enough that you could tell someone had pushed proper posture on her for most of her life. My eyes traced down the curves from her slender neck, down her shoulders, to the curve of her petite waist. Her arms hung loose at her side, with her feet spread evenly apart. She didn't have the stereotypical teenage pose. Not that she looked like a teenager. There was something wise about her eyes, yet at the same time you could see the same light in them that a small child's held when they discovered something new. An old soul trapped in a young body. She was definitely a gorgeous creature. She wasn't perfect, she had an odd habit of biting on her lower lip and her fingers unconsciously ran through her hair at odd intervals. But these were quirks, small tiny details about her that most people don't bother to find out.

I had to gulp down the sudden desire to grab her up and lock her away. I wanted to be the one to find out all those little details, all her wildest desires. _No. No. Stop that thought right there, _I told myself. _She's off limits. You're a teacher and she is a student. It's against the rules. You could lose your job,_ the rational voice in my head murmured.

"I absolutely abhor these parent nights," Neferet's commanding voice shook me out of my reverie. She stood next to me with her arms across her chest and her eyes narrowed. The entire staff knew about Neferet's hatred of humans. She had one extremely bad experience with an abusive and unloving father, and now she was ready to blame the entire human race for his actions. It didn't matter to her that she had painfully and slowly extracted her revenge centuries ago. She thirsted for the blood of more innocent people. I had thought she had surpassed that stage, but recently she seemed to be consumed by it.

A sweet, melodious voice interrupted my thoughts, "Grandma!"_ Innocent and sweet, like a child, _I thought.Zoey Redbird flung herself into the waiting arms of an old silver haired Cherokee woman. I could tell by the way they embraced and clung to each other, this woman was Zoey's lifeline. So I was a little shocked when I saw yet another Cherokee woman standing beside them with an odd grimace on her face and next to her a tall frail-looking brown haired, murky brown eyed man. I watched out of the corner of my vision as the entire scene played out before me. At first it just seemed awkward, but sensing the distress, Neferet hurried over to save the day.

It all went downhill from there. The moment Neferet spoke a simple "Hello", John Heffer—by the way, what kind of name is that?—put his guard up higher than the walls of the school. To put it short and sweet, it didn't end too badly. I really felt bad for the crumpled Cherokee fledgling that stood before me, shoulders slumped, eyes sad, when the woman who was supposed to be her biological mother followed her strange religious zealot stepfather out the front doors, with the unspoken promise of not returning.

She seemed to radiate her sadness across the room to me. Again, I had to resist the urge to scoop up this fragile being and carry her away from everything. Tiny, little, devilish temptress.

Maybe I could introduce myself? No, why? That would look too suspicious. Not to mention, I would look like a complete fool. "Hi, I'm Loren Blake. I'm sorry; I couldn't help but notice your life falling apart just a moment ago… would you like to cry on my shoulder? Oh and by the way I'm a teacher here and I think you're gorgeous. I decided on that about five minutes ago, which is the first time I've ever actually seen you." And that was basically the equivalent to walking up to a total stranger and getting down on one knee to ask for their hand in marriage.

I looked up to resume my studying again, but she was nowhere in sight. She must have left for the dorms already. I sighed and looked around, there was nobody else to study that compared to the poetic artwork that was Zoey Redbird. I said my goodbyes and tramped off to the poet's loft. Zoey still fresh in my mind, I wanted pour out all of the creative juices her image had left brewing inside of me. Who knows? Maybe I'll run across my little piece of artwork tomorrow…

****AN: Don't forget to review! I know this chapter is really short, but it will get longer I promise. I'll update as soon as possible. I want to make sure I give equal time to both pieces and since Graduation is coming up for me it will be a little bit harder, but I promise I'll try my best! =) All comments and reviews are appreciated so please leave some. Tell me what you like or what you think will happen. I love hearing from you guys. NC****


	2. Caught & Cornered

****AN: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! And if anyone ever wants me to read their story I'd be more than welcome to. Just leave a comment or PM me and I'll check it out =) Also, I do not own the House of Night series, any of its books, characters, or affiliates. Just to be on the safe side: This chapter contains quotes from Chapter 3, pages 30-34 of "Betrayed"; I of course, do not own those quotes. Happy Reading! NC****

**Loren**

I woke up to the bright moon shining through the window into my loft. Something wet and sticky was pressing against my face and I didn't like it. My hand reached up to touch the unwanted guest on my cheek. Ah! No! I hastily snatched the drool soaked paper off the side of my face, reading the haiku scrolling across it.

"_Brush strokes of copper_

_Silken waves of raven black_

_Give in to your thirst"_

The final "t" lay smudged in a pool of drool. Great. I, _Professor_ Loren Blake, just stayed up half the day writing haikus about a _student_, Zoey Redbird. I traveled down the river of blotched ink.

"_Flames in stubborn eyes_

_Bronze valleys of temptation_

_Desire is burning"_

On and on the haikus went, flowing evenly down both sides of the paper in my hand and on those that littered the floor. Some free-verse, some rhyming, but most were in my favorite style: the five-seven-five haiku format. _Damn it_, I thought. Eyes barely open, I glanced at my alarm clock. _Dear Goddess!_ I jumped out of bed and ran across the room to my closet. I could not be late. I didn't have a first hour class, but normally I aided Sappho in the library. I was part time as it was, and if I ever hoped to get a full time position, being late wasn't allowed. I threw on the first things I could find. Black dress slacks trailed up my legs to meet an untucked, white, button up shirt. I dashed out my front door, and ran across the school grounds.

Once I was in the building, I slowed to a graceful steady pace, catching my breath and calming my racing heart. It wasn't out of exhaustion from the run, but fear of being late and Neferet finding out. That's the last thing I needed. Neferet felt odd to me, and I could never quite place my finger on those odd calculating smiles. Like the other day at parent night, something, and I really could not tell what, but something made me feel like she wanted Zoey's parents to abandon her like that. It's definitely not something I would want to believe, but my gut instinct was telling me something was not all right about her.

I slid through the doors of the media center and almost turned around and left. _You're a professor, stop acting like a child!_ I thought to myself, as I squared my shoulders and marched forward. She's just a student, like any other. As I got closer to Zoey, the desire to flee became stronger and stronger. _Maybe I'll just leave…_

I stopped as the orange tuft of fur on her lap, uncurled itself and hissed. _Caught. _Well, I can't walk away now. I mustered all of my smooth poet's voice, "You look completely engrossed in that." She looked over her shoulder, probably expecting someone, well, not me, and her face froze in shock. Zoey didn't say anything at first, so I took the opportunity to break the awkward silence, "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you. It was just so unusual to see a student writing feverishly in long hand, rather than pecking away at computer keys, that I thought you might be writing poetry. You see, I prefer to write poetry longhand. The computer is just too impersonal." Alright, now I sound like a complete idiot.

I watched as she continued to stare and then her brain started to piece back together. She took on the look of confusion, "I—uh—I'm not writing poetry."

No, now I'm a complete idiot. Cleary she didn't want to talk to me. I faked a smile, hoping it wasn't the grimace I felt I was giving, "Oh, well. Doesn't hurt to check. Nice talking to you." _Run. Get out of there fast_. I felt my face turning bright red.

"Uh, I think computers are impersonal, too. I've never really written poetry, but when I write something important I like to do it like this," I turned in time to see her lift her pen awkwardly.

"Well, maybe you should try writing poetry. Sounds like you might have the soul of a poet." I briefly contemplated the lines and verses now working as a carpet to my loft. I noticed her bronzed skin took on a light pink tinge at the complement. The awkward silence started drawing back in, so I held my hand out to her, "Usually about this time of day I come by and give Sappho a break. I'm not a full time professor because I'm only here for one school year." In reality, I only have a one year contract. One of those "let's just see how this goes" kind of things. "I just teach two classes, so I have extra time. I'm Loren Blake, vampyre poet laureate."

She reached her arm out and I noticed the slender curve of her wrists, the delicate fingers, the manicured nails. Her dainty fingers wrapped around my forearm in the traditional vampyre greeting and I felt the warmth of her skin on mine. Tiny, Cherokee temptress. Or maybe Cherokee princess? Not the kind that waited in an ivory tower for someone to come save them. No, Zoey wasn't coming off as the damsel in distress girl. She was more of an ancient princess. One who fought alongside her people. Someone with fire and passion, like that of the Romans, Greeks, Egyptians.

"I know," she said before turning a gorgeous shade of pink. "What I mean is I know who you are. You're the first male poet laureate they've named in two hundred years." Something seemed to click in her brain, and her hand hurriedly left my forearm. My skin tingled were she had touched, and I immediately felt her absence. "I'm Zoey Redbird," she brushed a long strand of her raven black hair from her face, examining me with the same stubborn eyes that flitted throughout my poetry.

"I know who you are too. You're the first fledgling to have a colored-in, expanded Mark, as well as the only vamp, fledgling or adult, to have an affinity for all five elements. It's nice to finally meet you face to face," My mouth moved before I could think about what I was saying. To cover up my blunder, I smiled and said, "Neferet's told me a lot about you."

"She has?" Zoey's voice cracked a little and her hazel eyes widened in fear. _I wonder what she's afraid Neferet told me?_

"Of course she has. She's incredibly proud of you." I jerked my head towards the seat beside her, "I don't want to interrupt your work, but do you mind if I sit with you for a little while?"

Part of me wanted her beautiful face to take on a look of disgust and say, "Yes, I mind." Maybe even mention cradle robbing. But instead she said, "Yeah, sure. I need a break. I think my butt's asleep."

What? I laughed, full out loud happy carefree laughter for the first time in weeks. "Well then, would you like to stand while I sit?"

"No, I'll—uh—just shift my weight."

I chuckled again, "So if it's not too personal, may I ask what you're working so diligently on?" I snuck a peek at the swirling red ink letters on the top page of her notebook.

She was silent for a while, unconsciously worrying her bottom lip. I thought for a moment that maybe she didn't really want to share what she was doing with me. I felt the tiniest bit of heartbreak that she didn't want to tell me. But really? Who would expect her to unload all of her thoughts on a total almost stranger? I sighed, "Zoey? If you don't want to tell me what you're working on, that's fine. I really didn't mean to bother you."

I moved to stand, when she shook her head from her daze. "No! It's okay." She inhaled deeply before continuing, "Sorry—guess I was still thinking about my research." She seemed to hesitate before she launched into her speech, "I want to change the Dark Daughters. I think it needs a foundation—some clear rules and guidelines." Zoey gave me the full presentation on all of her plans for the Dark Daughters and Sons. She was clearly excited about all of it, and I had to admit, they were great ideas.

"I like it, I think it's a great idea," I told her after she finished explaining her ideas on adding a prefect system.

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

"There's something about me you should know. I don't lie." I smiled at her, willing her to trust me with more than just these small secrets.

"Well, thanks then." Her words were soft, but I could hear them as clear as bells. "I want the Dark Daughters to stand for more than just a social group. I want them to set examples—do the right things. So I thought that each of us would have to swear to uphold five ideals representing the five elements."

Truly a little genius. Zoey would make an excellent high priestess one day. "What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"The Dark Daughters and Sons should swear to be authentic for air, faithful for fire, wise for water, empathetic for earth, and sincere for spirit." And there it was, that bursting flame in her eyes. She truly wanted and believed in this with all of her heart. My eyes caught her swirling sapphire tattoos, and my fingers darted out to trail down them before I could stop.

"Beautiful and intelligent and innocent," I murmured. Zoey trembled, and I couldn't help but hope it was because of me. "_The best part of beauty is that which no picture can express_," I quoted.

I had to have jumped at least ten feet in the air when she spoke. "So sorry to interrupt, but I really do need to check out the next three books in this series for Professor Anastasia." I spun around, please goddess don't let it be…

Aphrodite, the former leader of the Dark Daughters who loved to cause havoc and believed she owned the school, grinned at me, three thick books in her tiny arms. _Not good,_ I thought. I gently took the books from her, not looking at her or Zoey. Luckily Sappho came strolling back in and saved me. I ran out of the media center without looking back. _Look what you've gone and done now! You knew she was off limits! _My mind screamed at me.

I turned a corner and nearly bumped head first into someone. "Ah, just the man I was waiting for," Neferet's calculating smile held me entranced. "Come with me." How did she hear about it so fast? I had just left the media center and Aphrodite wouldn't have been able to beat me to her. Neferet pulled me into her classroom and closed the door after a quick peek down the hall. I sat down at the nearest desk, waiting for her to begin my torture. "Loren, I need a favor." I looked her up and down, she looked frazzled and… terrified?

I jumped up, "Neferet? What is it? What's wrong?"

Neferet started to cry and finally choked out, "It's my fledglings. First Aphrodite and now Zoey." My heart froze. What could Zoey and Aphrodite have in common?

"Neferet, what about Zoey?"

She seemed to catch that I had only mentioned Zoey and not Aphrodite. I would have to be much more careful around her. "Aphrodite has angered the goddess and her gifts have been revoked!" She broke into a fresh wave of tears. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, rubbing her back. "And Z-Z-Zoey, she's, she's evil!" My hands stopped moving and I had to force them into motion again. "Aphrodite didn't summon the dark spirits at the ritual. It was Zoey. She's not full vampyre. I don't know what she is. And I can't find out. She's intelligent, more so than any of the other fledglings around here. The other professors can't sense her false innocence. I think… I think she has been dabbling with dark gifts." She cried into my shoulder for a moment before sniffling, "I don't know what to do. I can't prove it. I can't get close enough to her. She knows I can read her thoughts." Her face suddenly lit up, "but you can." I started to shake my head in protest, but she said, "Really, all you would have to do is convince her that you're someone important to her. Flirt with her, romance her, I know it doesn't sound appealing but if it will save innocent lives?" I knew I was trapped. I tried to think of anything that would get me out of this.

But there wasn't a way out. "Fine. I'll do it. But I'm not romancing her. You'll have to deal with me being a trusted friend or something." I could see the disappointment on her face, before she quickly hid it.

"Thank you. You're doing the right thing," she smiled and wiped away the last of her tears. "Well, I better be going. Lunch starts soon." As she closed the door behind her, I couldn't help the feeling that I had been played. Oh, I would do some investigating, but I was going to do it so I got answers to Zoey and Neferet.


	3. Inspirations

****AN: I do not own the House of Night series, etc. etc. Ok, so a big thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. It really means a lot to me. And don't forget to spend a few seconds reviewing afterwards and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome so feel free to exercise it. Also, please note that some of the dialogue is quoted from "Betrayed" pages 49-53. But other than those few quotes, the rest is mine. Thanks, NC** **

Loren

I didn't really know what to expect, walking into the Professor's dining hall upstairs. Part of me believed I would still see the scared, trembling Neferet, humbly bowed over a light salad. Maybe pushing the leafy green pieces of lettuce around for added dramatic effect. But when I strolled in towards the end of the meal, hoping to snag a quick sandwich, my high priestess was nowhere in sight. Curiosity overpowered me, and I turned on my heel and crept through the dark hallways of the House of Night, heading for Neferet's office. That's when I saw her again.

Instinct told me to hide before my conscious mind could register what I was seeing. Suspect number one, Zoey Redbird, was crouched down in front of Neferet's door, listening through the small crack still open. I couldn't make out the conversation, nor could I risk getting closer and alerting her to my presence, so I settled for where I was, hoping I could pick up a strand or two of the verbal exchange. I craned my neck closer, tensing my ears for a whisper, but I could only hear the faint sounds of a girl crying on the other side of the door. Crying, being the understatement.

This girl was clearly miserable. I could hear her sobs drift through the crack of the door and down the hall to my ears. Yet, the soft, broken words that accompanied the agony were lost in their travels. Zoey suddenly stood up and ran down the hallway, past my hiding spot. Her normal olive skin was a pale ghost white and her expressive eyes held pain and sorrow for only select few to see and actually understand.

I held my ground as I watched her long raven hair flick around the stone corner, before Neferet's door flew open and a tall blonde pixie ran from the room. That blonde hair could be recognized anywhere. I knew without a doubt in my mind, that Aphrodite was the broken girl now stumbling blindly down the hallway, one arm brushing away the tears that littered her face. Ignoring the tardy bell, I followed down the hallway after her, trying to maintain a look of innocence in my expression.

Aphrodite had collapsed in tears in an alcove not far from Neferet's office when I finally caught up to her. I squatted down in front of her, gently placing a hand on her shaking shoulder, "Aphrodite? What happened?"

Aphrodite looked up from her arms, giving me her best bitchy sneer. "Nothing that concerns you, _Professor_," She hissed, and pushed herself up from the wall. "You assholes think you've got everything figured out don't you? You think you know whose good, who's bad. Well guess what, dickweed? You've got it all wrong! And those people are going to die because of it! Just like last time, when you wouldn't listen!"

It suddenly dawned on me the state she was in. Tears pooling down her cheeks, eyes red and puffy, face white, hands shaking… Neferet had told me about Aphrodite's gift. "What did you see?" I asked her.

"Like it fucking matters. You assholes don't give a damn," She tried to push past me, but I caged her in.

"Aphrodite, let me help you." My eyes met hers and a silent battle of wills ensued. "Tell me what you saw," I commanded.

She held on for a few moments before her eyes dropped and her dainty shoulders sank in defeat, "People dying. It was a plane crash on a runway strip. A private jet for the House of Night in Chicago. Only one person on board, but all I saw was the back of his head and his seriously furry yellow suitcase. It was a fashion nightmare." Leave it to Aphrodite to comment on someone's choice in luggage while recounting a death and destruction vision.

"Focus, what exactly happened to cause the plane to crash?" I tried to get her to center back in on the details before she lost them. Aphrodite squeezed her eyes shut, and I could see them move behind her eyelids, looking at a completely different scene from her dark lids.

Aphrodite shook her head and slowly opened her eyes, "I can't tell. I see… ice? Yes, ice. A bad landing?" She sighed. "I do know one thing. We have a little while. The airport billboard has a massively tacky 'Happy Holidays' sign flying its Christmas colors."

That would be enough information for me. I smiled, "Thank you, I will contact the Chicago House of Night immediately. Do not fear. It will be tended to. If you ever need any assistance, my classroom door is always open to you."

Aphrodite readopted her bitchy sneer, "Yeah, thanks for the fucking offer. But I'm not one to wait in line." She flipped her blonde hair, and I watch her twitch up the hallway in the direction of the girl's dorm. Goddess, she was going to be a hand full. Now, the real question was: why didn't Neferet do something about Aphrodite's vision?

I needed to get out of here. I needed to think. Without interruptions. Without Neferet around. I darted out of the school building, away from all the classes and drama, fully intending upon leaving campus. When I reached the grass outside the front door and saw the moon shimmering faint light like snow on the House of Night, I was inspired. I knew exactly what I needed right now. My fingers grasped the leather-bound journal I constantly kept with me. It was one of the last gifts from my mother, before she died.

My mother died when I was about eighteen. It was two short years after I had been marked. She visited the House often, always bringing her fresh baked fudgy chocolate brownies that were my favorite. She knew we were supposed to be eating healthy, but she always said, "It's okay to be spoiled once and awhile. And if I want to make my son his favorite foods, then I will make my son his favorite foods and no vampyre is going to stop me." In the end, it wasn't the vampyres that stopped her. A robber, intent on a watch my mother was wearing, attacked and murdered her on her way home from visiting me one night. It's the one dark smudge on my otherwise clean record. I had relished in his death, but I refused to drink his blood. I felt guilty afterwards; killing the man didn't make me feel any better about my mother's death. Only worse, I had felt like I had insulted her memory. Tarnished and slandered it with the blood of murder. That was a dark time for me. But it was when I discovered poetry, and from there life grew and I felt I had redeemed myself in my mother's eyes.

I stood out under the large old tree by the school's wall, trying to channel my poetry. My fingers had yet to write anything on the blank page I had been staring at for two hours when I heard the _snap!_ I spun around, my adult vampyre sight slicing through the mist of darkness to a slender delicate figure frozen in the shadows on the path. "Zoey? Is that you?" My voice cut the distance between us.

The figure emerged from the darkness and the beautiful Cherokee angel, Zoey, stood before me, "Loren?" I could not help the odd tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach when I heard my name on her tongue. I cleared my throat to dispel the awkward dry feeling growing in my mouth.

"What are you doing out here?" I looked around. She was completely by herself, save a small orange tabby she clutched to her chest. The House of Night was certainly safe, but wandering around alone wasn't the best option. Even the safest places still have their dangers.

She grinned impishly and traced her way under the tree beside me, "Hi." I watched her tan cheeks tinge a light pink before she said, "Oh, I was walking back from the stables and Nala and I decided to talk a long-cut." Long-cut? Truly one of a kind. I laughed, the second time this tiny temptress had brought me joy that had just recently seemed forever lost.

"A long-cut, huh? Hello again, Nala." I scratched the top of the tiny cat's head before it flopped from Zoey's arms and sauntered into the bushes.

"Sorry. She's not very sociable," Zoey chuckled.

"Don't worry about it. My cat, Wolverine, reminds me of a grumpy old man," I joined in her light carefree laughter. It felt good to share these tiny details with someone.

"Wolverine?" Her right brow rose curiously to her hairline.

I smiled lopsidedly and felt like a teenager again. "Yeah, Wolverine," I noticed I had dropped my formal tongue and used the same slang I had before I was Loren Blake, first male vampyre poet laureate in two centuries. Back before I was being used and abused. Before, when I could talk to a woman just like this, without fear of her using me for my reputation. I sighed and brought myself back to happier memories, "He chose me as his when I was a third former. That was the year I was completely into the _X-Men_." I wanted to slap my hand over my mouth and walk away right then. She had a habit of getting me to say things I would normally never mention. That was not safe when you were investigating a person. Alright, so that was only part of the reason. The other half of me was screaming, _way to go idiot! Now she knows you were that dorky kid in high school with the all the action figures!_

Instead she laughed and said, "The name could account for why he's so grumpy."

"Well, it could have been worse," I joked, falling easily into her light simple banter. "The year before, I couldn't stop watching _Spider-Man_. He came within an inch of being Spidey or Peter Parker." I chuckled. My mind's eye was filled with the hilarious image of my grumpy cat, trotting throughout the poet's loft with his head held high despite his name, Spidey. Laughter swirled to a stop as my eyes caught hers, enraptured by the bright crystals emanating from them. That stubborn fight in them, where they couldn't decide if they were going to be brown or green entranced me. Light versus darkness was embodied in this small, fragile, yet dangerous woman.

"Clearly, you're a great burden for your cat to bear." Zoey's playful tone shook me from my reverie.

"Wolverine would most definitely agree with you!" I laughed. It was so easy to get caught up in Zoey.

"So, what are you doing way out here?"

"Writing haiku." I lamely lifted my journal, briefly displaying the fact that I had not actually gotten any writing accomplished. "I find inspiration being out here, alone, in the hours before dawn," I smiled down at her. For some odd reason her face flushed red and embarrassment crept across her delicate features.

"Oh, gosh! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you." Interrupt me? Could she not see how I desperately craved her company? Not to mention how pathetic I was because of it. I mean, I am a professor—part time or otherwise—and she is a student—gifted, special, chosen one, future high priestess fledgling or not. "I'll just say bye and leave you alone," she waved her arm awkwardly and turned to leave.

My hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could walk away from me. "You don't have to go. I find inspiration in more things than being out here alone." I instantly regretted it. _Great. Just wonderful. She's going to slap your hand aside and go running for the hills._ But so far Zoey had never done anything I had expected, and she certainly didn't disappoint me this time.

Her forehead creased in worry, "Well, I don't want to bother you."

"Don't worry about that," I insisted. "You're not bothering me," I gave her tiny hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. My skin instantly recognized the loss. It was as if she held a piece of my soul, and I of course, was not whole without it.

The tiny priestess in training took a deep breath, "Okay, so. Haiku." She blinked a few times, gathering her thoughts. "That's Asian poetry with a set meter count, right?" She knew poetry? I grinned ear to ear. I probably looked an idiot. It was as if Nyx had created this tiny being just to tempt me, putting all of my dreams and desires into this small fiery Cherokee shell. Perhaps she shared my passion for verbal artwork?

"That's right. I prefer the five-seven-five format." I thought back to this morning, opening my eyes to see the ocean of Haikus strewn across the floor of my loft. "Speaking of inspiration—you could help me out." _Damn it! Smooth Blake, real smooth! Why don't you just tell her that her 'eyes sparkle like the glow of a thousand moons'?_

"Sure, I'd be happy to," she smiled shyly, shifting ever so slightly towards me. Just above the line of her jacket I saw the swirling tattoos on her olive skin dance down, teasing me, just below her collar and out of sight.

I reached my hand out to the agonizing brushstrokes of sapphire and rubbed my fingers on the skin there, trailing down to her shoulder were the jacket hid my view. "Nyx has Marked you there," I whispered.

I wasn't sure whether it was a question or a statement, but she blessed me with an answer anyway. "Yes," she nodded her head, causing a strand of her long straight black hair to dance just above her shoulder.

"I would like to see it," I wished aloud. I looked at her innocent face, blushing red with embarrassment and added, "If it wouldn't make you too uncomfortable." Purely for academic research purposes though. Her tattoos were highly unusual; an idiot wouldn't miss out on a chance to see them. At least, that was the excuse I was using.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard her say, "I'll show it to you." Slowly, she shrugged out of the dark black jacket she was wearing, revealing a deep purple tank top. I watched the black fabric in slow motion as it slid down her olive toned skin, in stark contrast with each other.

I shook my head out of my daze, finally remembering the manners my mother had dutifully instilled in me. "Here, let me help you," My hands gentle wrapped around the collar of her jacket, pulling it down slowly as my eyes followed the tattoos down her shoulder. Spirals interspersed with ancient runes danced on the skin there, teasing me with the essence of forbidden fruit. Zoey's hazel eyes flashed up to meet my own and I lost myself within their depth. I saw a future there that I never imagined I could have. One with love, passion, normalcy. I saw a day of waking up next to the amazing woman I loved. Kissing her on the nose to wake her up. Playful banter, as I carry her laughing out to the kitchen to share breakfast. Maybe the patter of little feet dancing around on hardwood floors. Maybe, just maybe that future was here, with her.

Zoey's movements brought me back to reality. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she reached up and slid the purple strap of her tank down her shoulder where it pooled with the black jacket at her elbows. She lifted her long dark hair, pulling it over the opposite shoulder and angled her back towards me, giving me a full view of her spiraling tattoos. I met her eyes again, and in them I saw it… permission, acceptance, desire. Fingers gently wrapped around her upper arm, I pulled myself closer.

Her sapphire tattoos seemed to glow in the moonlight, caressing her skin with a warm tantalizing glow. The spirals danced down her shoulder blade, interspersed with ancient runes of hidden meanings. "It's incredible," I breathed. I allowed my fingers to trace down the labyrinth of her sapphire paintings, circling the ancient symbols inscribed on her. "I've never seen anything like this," I admitted honestly. I looked at her face in the dim moon glow and saw the ancient priestess within. Her head cocked towards the sky, her black hair forming a crown, the defined cheekbones and hazel eyes. "It's as if you're an ancient priestess who has materialized in our time. How blessed we are to have you, Zoey Redbird." I couldn't help the warm feeling the enveloped me at her name on my lips. I noticed the skin I had been circling with my fingertips was covered in goose bumps as she shivered.

"I'm sorry. You must be cold." I lifted up the slender sleeve of her tank and pulled the jacket up to cover her shoulders. She hadn't Changed yet, so the weather probably still affected her a bit.

"I wasn't shivering because I was cold," she whispered boldly. As the seconds passed, my mind played tricks on me, trying to convince me that I didn't really hear those musical words. My little Cherokee princess reminded me of so much that I loved.

"_Cream and silk as one_

_How I long to taste and touch_

_The moon watches us."_

I recited the poem with ease. It reminded me so much of her. A fact I would be unwilling to readmit when she asked me her next question. "Did you write that just now?" Her face was a warm delicious red and she sounded breathless.

I shook my head slightly, smiling at my tiny priestess's blush, "No. It was written centuries ago by an ancient Japanese poet about how his lover looked naked under the full moon." It was my turn to turn red under embarrassment. A grown man, falling to the teenage delicacies of embarrassment! But there didn't seem to be anything teenage about Zoey Redbird. She was a woman in her own right. Not only physically, but mentally. She teased and pulled at the poet within me. The real one, the poet from before all the demands and expectations. The poet in which freedom rang from every line and emotion dipped like valleys through mountains of passion and words.

"It's beautiful," she finally said.

I couldn't believe what I did next. My hand sought her cheek and I whispered, "You're beautiful." I wanted to smack myself in the forehead. I felt like the love-struck teenage boy, bumbling around again. She did things to me, made me feel different. Not a bad different but not the same as what every other woman makes me feel. She's like… and she's… I sighed. This tiny temptress had me speechless for once. Her skin was so soft and warm under my hand, and I knew what to write. The words formed in my brain, writing themselves into my memory.

_My tiny temptress_

_ All my thoughts are consumed_

_ My heart beats with you._

"And tonight you have been my inspiration. Thank you." I felt the magnetic pull between us and was tempted. I leaned closer. Just one tiny kiss wouldn't hurt. One small piece of affection between this tiny Cherokee angel before me and I, would not damage us. No. It would. I being a professor and she a student, she would get the worst of it. I had seen before what happens to girls that get involved with professors. It wasn't a life I wanted for her. She deserved more.

I dropped my hand from her face regrettably, and stepped back. The rejection showed momentarily in her features and nearly killed me, before she carefully constructed the mask that hid them. My words pained even me, "It was nice to see you, Zoey" I put on my best professor smile, "And thanks again for allowing me to look at you Mark." I bowed somewhat formally and practically ran away without looking back. I would definitely have to be more careful around her.

****AN: Don't forget to take a few seconds to review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't, where I can improve, I'm open to hearing about anything =) Thanks! NC****


	4. Contests

Loren

Numbly, I opened the door to my private loft and stepped in. The first thing that hit me was the smell. Perfume. And not just any perfume: expensive fruity perfume. I inhaled deeply, "Neferet?" The lights to my loft flicked on to reveal her leaning comfortably on my couch.

_Not again,_ I groaned internally.

"Loren, darling, you were out playing late tonight," she tapped one long slender finger against the wine glass in her hand.

"Neferet, what do you want?" I rubbed my temples. I was not in the mood to play games with her tonight.

"Oh, touchy," she laughed as she rose from my bed and sauntered towards the door. "Listen, I just stopped by to say goodbye. You're leaving for that Shakespeare trip in an hour, remember?" She smiled innocently. "I just wanted to say 'Have fun'." She waved and retreated through the door with a, "See ya, handsome," tossed back over her shoulder.

The woman was really creeping me out more and more each day. I quickly shut the door and looked around. _Dear sweet goddess!_

The floor of my loft was still covered in poems. Poems that—obviously—could only be about one specific person. I picked up the first one and read it through.

"_Cherokee goddess_

_Crimson passion awaits thee_

_Set your craving free."_

_Yeah, I'm screwed,_ I thought. There was no way on this earth that Neferet didn't know just which fledgling all of these poems were about. She knew about my twisted sick feelings for Zoey. The only thing was, what was she going to do about it? Fire me? Or take it out on Zoey? I shivered. There was no way I could let innocent Zoey take the fall for my behavior. I would have to find some way to shield her from Neferet, which will be next to impossible because Neferet is her mentor. All the pieces were slowly falling into place. Neferet in my room with a pretty crappy excuse might I add, plus her trying to convince me that a fledgling specially marked by Nyx is evil. Something was definitely wrong with Neferet. I just couldn't place my finger on what. Somehow I was going to have to find out, even after I got fired and there was no way I wouldn't be.

I fell onto my large iron bed, curling up in the deep red, silk sheets. I looked around my loft, enjoying the view while it lasted. There was no way I would get to keep it now. I had always loved my loft, the bright colors, the lines, the textures. It was pure poetry.

There was a shape to it I had yet to find anywhere else. When you first walked in, there was the small foyer with a side table and a rectangular mirror on the wall. I had a small clear glass dish on the deep cherry wood table that held the keys to my black Mazda six. Past that was the small living room or main room. The first section of the floor was a sunken room. It had a comfy red couch in the middle on a beige area rug facing the flat screen TV on the wall. The stereo sat just below the TV, above two rows of my favorite DVDs. Behind that was the bedroom. My large wrought iron bed occupied most of the space, but I had a large dresser and desk, both made of the same dark gorgeous cherry wood. The bathroom had a shower tub combo and a vanity cabinet hanging over a semi large sink. The bathroom connected to the walk in closet, which I admit, was a bit of a pity next to anyone else's closet. There was plenty of open space in it, and the few articles of clothing that were in it were mainly button up shirts and dress slacks. Just past the sunken room was my small but lovable kitchen. It had a full fridge, an island, a small stove, a large sink, and beautiful granite countertops. It was probably my favorite room and not because of the mind-blowing grilled ham and cheese sandwiches that came out of it. I truly loved my loft, despite its somewhat empty feeling.

_Say goodbye now, Blake. If she doesn't fire you tomorrow, she will soon._ I flipped on the TV, switching it to the news channel while I packed for the Shakespeare Monologue Contest. Any other day, the voice of Chera Kimiko—the anchor for Fox 23 evening news—would just fly in one ear and out the other. But today, my ears picked up just enough of the dialogue to grasp my attention. _"…the search continues for Union High School teenager Chris Ford. The seventeen year old disappeared yesterday after football practice." _A picture of a grinning, muscular boy in a red and white football uniform flashed in the upper right hand corner of the screen. _"Search parties are combing the area around Utica Square and Woodward Park, where he was last seen. So far there are no leads as to why he was in the Woodward Park area. Chris's mother said she didn't even know her son knew the way to Woodward Park, she's never known him to go there before. Mrs. Ford also said that she expected him home right after football practice. He has now been missing for more than twenty-four hours. If anyone has any information that might help the police locate Chris, please call Crime Stoppers. You may remain anonymous."_ Chera Kimiko trailed off to the next story and I clicked the TV off. I don't know why it held any interest to me. I didn't know the boy.

Now that I thought about it, I knew someone who might know him. Zoey. Neferet had been bragging about her super talented fledgling from Broken Arrow High School. It's a loose connection, but maybe Zoey knew this Union Football player. Which put her back on my suspects list. I sighed and rubbed my forehead, deciding I would deal with the investigation later. For now, I needed to pack.

I quickly folded a few dress shirts, slacks, and boxers; packing them somewhat neatly in the suitcase lying open on my bed. I checked everything off mentally: tooth brush, comb, pants (I had indeed forgotten to pack those once), shirts, boxers, journal, pens, and… I wracked my brain trying to remember the last item. Whatever it is, it couldn't be that important if I forgot it. I zipped up my bag, grabbed my wallet and walked out the front door. Two days, I thought sadly. Two days and I would be back, and Neferet will probably fire me. Part of me wanted to invite Zoey to come with me to the Monologue Contest, just so I knew she was safe from Neferet. But that would look too suspicious. If Neferet did act on her knowledge, I would have to trust Zoey's friends to help her out.

I made it to the front gate, noticing the two large black SUV's parked against the sidewalk. "Ah, there you are Professor Blake," Professor Nolan smiled and waved me over.

"Is everyone here and ready to go?" I asked.

"Almost. We're still waiting on one more," She ticked my name off of a small blue clipboard she was clutching. I looked around the tiny group of fledglings, doing a head count. I saw Kaci Crump talking animatedly with Deino beside the first SUV. Isolated from the group, Cole Clifton stood under one of the scrawny maple trees talking to the ever popular, superman-want-to-be, Erik Night. Talent or no talent, something about the perfect hair, perfect teeth teenage boy irked me. I didn't have time to further delve into my unreasonable hatred for him. The last straggler finally appeared.

"You're late Cassie," Professor Nolan checked the final name off the list.

"Sorry, Professor," the small girl smiled apologetically.

"Yes, well… Let's go everybody; we needed to be out of here ten minutes ago!" Professor Nolan clapped her hands, ushering fledglings into the SUVs. "Loren, you take the boys and I'll ride with the girls," She said. I wanted to protest—I didn't want to spend that much time with the Night boy—but I knew the school policy. If we mixed the girls with the boys there had to be a male and female chaperone for each car. Since there was only two chaperones available—myself and Nolan—we were left with only one choice. I regrettably slid into the SUV after Erik and Cole and settled in for what was hopefully a very short ride to the airport. At least here, in the SUV on my way to New York, I didn't have to worry about seeing Zoey and causing any more trouble than I was already in. I was grateful for at least that much, even if I would miss seeing my little piece of artwork.

"So Erik, how's your girl taking you being gone for two days?" Cole asked casually. Great. I'm going to have to listen to two hours of boyfriend girlfriend mush from Clark Kent.

"Who, Zoey? Good I guess. She knows it's only two days. Besides, I'm not sure what's all going to happen with us. I mean, I'm older so I'm probably going to Change first. Which means I'll have to leave the House of Night, start my life, my career. So I'm not sure we'll last past that. I don't know. I'm considering these two days the trail period. If I like being free, then once I Change, Zoey and I will probably split. But if I don't like the single life, I'll keep with her," he shrugged. It took all of my will power not to punch this egotistical, womanizing, _asshole_ fledgling. My hands clenched into fists, my blood pounded in my ears. _Get a hold of yourself Blake_, my mind whispered. _You'll only cause more troubles for her._

"Dude, that's pretty harsh," Cole looked at him shocked. Thank goddess one of these boys have some common decency!

"It is what it is. Zoey's smart enough to know that I'm not going to cut my career off so I can sit on the couch eating Doritos while I wait around for her to Change," Erik said before cracking open a bottle of water. I readjusted myself so I was breathing in the cool air from the open window. This was going to be a _very_ long ride.

****AN: Dear Erik fans… sorry. Also, I do not own anything of the House of Night, etc. etc. I'm pretty bored with it being summer vacation so I'll probably have another chapter for this up sometime this week. I'm trying to make sure I keep equal time working on "Burned and Broken". Don't forget to review! NC****


	5. Betrayed

****AN: Sorry, it took so long for this chapter. Anyways, thanks for the reviews =) it is greatly appreciated. I do not own the House of Night series, any of it characters or affiliates. That being said, here is chapter 5. Happy Reading! NC****

Loren

_"To be or not to be—that is the question. Whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer…"_ The fledgling on stage was waving his hands around extravagantly as the soliloquy progressed. Too extravagantly. I was personally wondering when the boy planned to take flight.

Alright, so maybe he wasn't that bad, I conceded as he finished his speech to a roaring applause. My foul mood seeped ever deeper; partially because this was the fifth rendition of Shakespeare's _Hamlet_. In all honesty, who is teaching these kids? I mean, Shakespeare did a lot more than just _Hamlet_ and _Romeo and Juliet_.

One of the fourth formers from the Tulsa House of Night took her place at center stage and began, _"What fire in mine ears? Can this be true?"_ Ah! _About time_, I thought. _Much Ado About Nothing_ was one of my favorite Shakespearean comedies. The girl continued through Beatrice's monologue, enrapturing the audience with her performance. She curtsied upon its completion and flounced behind the thick red curtains.

"Next, we have Erik Night from the Tulsa House of Night," a perky vamp wearing a floor length blue evening gown announced from the left side of the stage. Erik Night strolled out in the spot light from the right hand side, arms raised like a hero home from victory. He stopped, just short of the microphone, and bent his head down. When he lifted his face to meet the crowd, Erik Night no longer existed. In his place, he left a Moorish warrior desperately trying to explain how he fell in love with the Venetian princess and her with him.

"_Her father lov'd me; oft invited me;_

_ Still question'd me the story of my life_

_ From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes_

_ That I have pass'd."_

As much as I hated him—hatred being the most severe understatement—it would be impossible for him to not get first place. Even I—who would surely kill him should I have to chance to make it look like an accident—could realize that talent like his lay unmatched with any others. Perhaps it was his gift from Nyx? She clearly did not gift him with manners, I scoffed.

My mother had metaphorically beat manners into me from a young age. Helping a lady with her jacket, holding doors for people, it was my thing. Call me old fashioned, but—well no buts… I am _actually_ old, well twenty-five—it was always better when you were being polite. I briefly contemplated what my mother would think if she met Erik. I laughed internally. She would probably whack him upside the head with a wooden spoon the first chance she got. My mother was big on manners, and if you didn't have them, you learned them really quick with Mama. She didn't take well to rude people, or lack of manners in young children, especially if they were table manners. I chuckled, thinking back to a long time ago in my memories. My father sat at the head of the table, looking pretty much like me. Blonde hair, dark eyes, and tall. Yeah, that was my dad. Mama always sat on his right and my brothers and sisters filled in the remaining seats around the table.

That was the one downside to becoming a vamp—other than the chance of an early death. I loved my family, more than life itself, and I have to spend the next few decades with only memories of them—my family had fallen apart after my mother's death. I hadn't seen or heard from any of them since that day, other than the short call from a city hospital announcing the premature death of my father.

It had been somewhat easier for the other professors at the House of Night. Not simple, but easier. Neferet hated humans after the abuse her father put her through, Dragon and Anastasia found each other the same day the both got Marked and have been together since, and Lenobia was working at a factory when she was Marked. None of them remembered their families, or they didn't want to. I imagined that came with a different set of issues though. But again, they weren't the same as the constant remembrance of what you once had and knowing now that now you're all alone. I had no one to come home to but Wolverine. No wife or children, no one to tell about my day and to ask about theirs. No one to wake up to every morning. I just wanted to have that one person I could count on to be there for the rest of my existence. I wanted love, as bright and strong as the love my parents shared. The last woman I had even been with had been… Zoey.

I sighed. Mama would have liked Zoey. And, boy, my father would have gotten a kick out of her fire. The tiny Cherokee temptress had a spark to her. One that could explode and heat the world around her. There was something about her that sparked the poet in me.

It had been a long time since I had written poetry purely because I was inspired. I had done pieces required by my title. But with the loss in my muse in a world of politics and business, it was hard for my fingers to give birth to the swirling ink letters that so fondly expressed my every emotion. Zoey had cured my temporary disease. The proof of that lay scattered across the floor of my loft.

"_She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd_

_ And I lov'd her that she did pity them."_

I stood in conjunction with those around me, generously applauding my adversary. I watched him bow and press two fingers to his lips before holding them out as if to hand his kiss the audience. He paused for a moment and then bowed his head and pressed the same two fingers against his heart. _Overkill_, I thought bitterly.

Erik strode off the stage, all smiles for the watching crowd. The next fledgling on stage was pretty much screwed. Anybody who followed that performance wasn't going to score very high—whether they were good or not. It would not be able to compare to Erik Night's rendition of Othello's soliloquy. And sure enough, without comparing her to Erik, the fledgling on stage performing Cleopatra's death scene was fantastic, at least top five worthy. But I knew the system all too well, and with Erik still fresh in the minds of the judges, this talented actress would be lucky to get anything above fifteenth place.

On and on the monologues went, further driving me to insanity. Shakespeare was an excellent study but after hearing one hundred and twenty five fledglings perform his monologues—one third of which, probably consisted of _Hamlet_ and _Romeo and Juliet_—my mental nerves began to fry. It was with great elation that I finally burst through the open doors of the theater, breathing in the fresh air. I was with a great deal less enthusiasm, that the first thing I saw upon exiting those doors was Erik Night. As if to further grate my nerves, my ears picked up his conversation with the Barbie doll brunette in front of him.

"Yeah, we should definitely hang out sometime, B," Erik smiled and took a step closer to her.

Her voice was as smooth as silk, musical even, as she giggled, "That sounds great. I know this little coffee place by the hotel we could go to."

Erik smiled his perfect, white-toothed, charming guy smile, before gently saying, "Great, I can't wait. I'll see you when we get back to the hotel then."

I wanted to squish his tiny superman styled head under my foot. _No good, cheating, lying, man whore_, my thoughts screamed venom at him. Zoey deserved better than the pathetic excuse for a man standing that was Erik Night. I had never really liked him. At all.

It wasn't just his overwhelming perfection that had irritated me. There was something about his attitude that had always gotten to me. I had watched this fledgling strut around the House of Night like he owned the place. Erik had always thought about one person: himself. Thinking about it now, it made me realize why he probably didn't have a cat. I hadn't realized how close Erik had gotten to the giggling fledgling, but when I looked up he was practically becoming part of her_. Any closer to her, Night, and you'll need to be surgically removed_, I thought.

My anger boiled just beneath my skin as I watched as Erik lean in slowly and capture the girl's lips with his. I wanted to strangle the life out of this arrogant little asshole. My blood pounded through my veins, and unconsciously I took a few steps forward.

Maybe things would have been different, had I not seen this tiny exchange. Maybe, maybe not. But Erik had finally pushed me over the edge with this little scene. The idiot was lucky I wasn't going to cause a little scene of my own. _Then again_, I thought as he added another long kiss to the foolish girl within his grasp, _maybe I will kill him._

I had to admit, for once, I was enraptured by a woman. Zoey had all the beauty and innocence a man could ever desire in one creature. And to see this… this, asshole man whore cheating on her, using her for nothing more than a reputation, a warm body; it made every nerve in my body explode into flames. Who knows whether or not I would have killed the prick if Professor Nolan hadn't of come over to talk to me before I could begin destroying him.

"So, what do you think? Do you think we have a chance at first with Erik?" she asked hopefully.

"I suppose. After all, Mr. Night is a highly talented actor," I knew she wouldn't catch the double meaning in my words. But as her expression morphed to confusion I quickly began to fear I had said too much.

Thankfully, Professor Nolan merely said, "I wonder when the SUV's are going to finally show up." I was severely hoping that they would be late. There was no way I would be able to sit in such a confined space with Erik Night without a high chance of his death. My mind scrolled through all the possibilities, each of them starting off well but ending badly for me.

Luckily for Erik, the SUVs didn't arrive for another twenty minutes; plenty of time for me to cool my blood and get a grip on myself. The ride was a short one, thank goddess. And in no time I was laying on my bed in my large one bedroom suite. My mind kept flashing back to Erik. The vision of him flirting with some ignorant girl followed by Zoey's broken expression, swirled through my head making me want to vomit. What was it about this tiny temptress that had me so tied in a knot?

I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands as if the motion would dispel the images harassing my mind. I knew deep down what I was going to do. I was going to fight against it, slamming myself in the opposite direction. But in the end, I knew what was going to happen. In the end, Erik would push me too far and I would either kill him or take Zoey for myself. In the end, against every fiber of my being, I would probably pursue Zoey Redbird.

I groaned internally and flicked off the lights to my fancy hotel room. Tomorrow morning (well, night), I would be on the House of Night's private jet, riding back to the school. Back to the conundrum that is a goddess faced Cherokee temptress. Tomorrow I would be on my way home to problems.

****AN: I know, I know… a bit on the short side, but I promise they'll get longer… Don't forget to Review! NC****


	6. Plan C All of the Above

****AN: I know, I know… it's been awhile. Plus, side: the wait is over, here is Chapter 6. Happy Reading! NC****

Loren

The flight home was a long one, despite me staying as far away from Mr. Night as possible. His voice carried, and even when he wasn't speaking of Zoey, he was irritating me. The boy oozed arrogance in waves that rivaled a tsunami. The females fawned over him, although I don't know why. He was in complete contrast to Zoey. Where she was light brushstrokes and deep colors, he was simple lines no more complex than that of a stick figure drawing.

I was completely appalled at his lack of manners, considering his ability to sweep women off their feet. At least simple minded women, that are too dim-witted to see his lack of personality, inability to trust, and self-obsession. I sighed. I would have to be careful with such bold faced accusations as that. Zoey was one of the women that had fallen for his charms.

Perhaps that was the answer. Maybe it wasn't the women. Maybe it was him. His acting skills are profound, and if I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand times: never trust a man that boasts about his acting skills. Perhaps these women merely underestimated his acting ability. That child could charm the pants off a homeless man if he wanted to. I couldn't have Zoey exposed to that form of treachery. That mindless asshole's games were not to be used on the Cherokee goddess that had enraptured my soul.

I was left with only two choices:

Cross the unwritten boundaries between student and teacher, and personally save Zoey from Erik as I would wish.

Or

Kill Erik.

The second option was looking like the easiest, not to mention it would be personally fun. Not that being with Zoey wouldn't be fun. But I would rather put myself through a High Council murder trial than put Zoey through any more stress and pain. Plus, again, killing Erik would be fun. I know my mama wouldn't be proud of me for it but, well… who knows? Maybe she would. I sighed and shook my head. No. I couldn't insult my mother's memory by trying to say she would condone and be proud of me murdering an innocent boy. Innocent in the meaning that he hasn't committed a crime. Which bring us to the fact that, unfortunately, being stupid isn't a crime nor is being an asshole.

Thankfully, the plane landed before I could decide whether or not I wanted plan A or B. Well, thankfully for Erik—because at the time I was leaning towards both.

All I had to endure was the short ride back to the House of Night and then I could curl up in my massive bed in the poet's loft and snooze away the rest of the day. _That is… if it's still my loft._

My activities prior to my departure for this trip reconnected to my memory as we pulled into the school parking lot. Part of me wondered if I even had a loft anymore. I wouldn't be surprised to walk in to my apartment and find all of my things packed and gone. Or worse: not being able to get into my apartment at all.

A million and one possibilities flowed through my mind, each worse than the previous. It went as far as probation, to death, to on the run from the Sons of Erebus. I was running more scenarios than a D&D dungeon master.

What? 'Dungeons and Dragons' was big in my family.

Anyway, there were a lot of possibilities that could potentially occur and none of them were good.

As I stepped out of the SUV into the dark night shrouding my home I noticed there wasn't a single person waiting to greet us. A breath of relief I didn't know I was holding escaped my lungs and I instantly relaxed. If I had been fired or lost my loft, a teacher would be here to inform me of it. As we all stretched and grabbed our things from the car, I looked around the school, saving in every detail and etching it into my memories.

The multi-shaded mahogany cobble stones decorated the exterior, making the school look every bit the ancient castle. Windows, as black as the sky, peppered the school building, giving it a futuristic impression. It was a mixture of past and present with rivers and valleys of different times and cultures weaving in and out. The stone statue of Nyx in front of her temple looked vaguely Roman, while the fountains and gardens could compare to miniatures of those in England and France. There was a curving sweep to the place that was welcoming, unlike the straight angular lines of common public schools. The House of Night was a mixture of light and dark, past and future, expression and monotonicity.

"Alright, listen up!" Professor Nolan's high projecting voice penetrated my thoughts and compelled me to turn towards her. The fledglings gathered around her like moths to a flame as she continued, "The assembly will start in an hour. Each of you will go on in the same order you were in at New York. Remember, perform your speech," she held up her right hand and ticked off a finger after each task, "bow, smile, wave, and leave the stage for the next person. We are on a schedule because of the Dark Daughter's ritual tonight. Which is open house for any of you who might be interested."

I heard a few murmurs of curiosity in the crowd before she silenced them, "Now, you have ten minutes to deposit your things in your dorm rooms and meet me backstage. Got it?" I watched the obedient fledglings nod their heads before she waved her hands towards the school and said, "Well, then, go on." Smiling like a mother would at her child; she watched the students flock to the House of Night, rushing past each other excitedly.

And for once, I wished I was one of them. This connection, this bond I have with the High Priestess in training was nonsensical. I was compelled by her, drawn to her against my will and my thought constantly lingered on her every breath and expression. All of this would be so simple if I was a regular fledgling. I sighed, only furthered depressed by the knowledge that I would, in fact, not get to retire to my comfy loft for the evening.

"Professor Blake?" I shook my head as Nolan's Texas twang broke through my thoughts a second time.

"Hmmm?" I brilliantly replied.

"Are you okay? You seem the littlest bit distracted there." She wrapped one hand around the handle to her bag and began rolling it towards the apartments.

"Oh, yes. My—um—head is still back in New York, I suppose," I mustered what I thought was a convincing smile, but it apparently wasn't convincing enough.

Nolan looked at me worried. "Why don't you rest up for a bit? This has probably been a rough weekend for you. The boys are always a little more stressful than the girls during these trips. Well, except of course the Monologue Contest of sixty-three. Whew! That one was the highest level of rough. But that's a story for another time," she chuckled. "Anyways," she continued, "You look worn out. Go rest. There really wasn't anything for you to do at the assembly anyway. Unless you wanted to watch them all again?" her light laughter danced through the air.

I nodded, realizing during her offer that I was actually exhausted. I smiled tiredly and with a small, "Thank you," I retreated to my sanctuary. When I nudged the door open with my foot and flicked on the lights, the first thing I noticed was the stream of papers leading into the main room. I sighed, chucking my house keys into the glass bowl on the table beside the door and kicked my shoes off. As I walked into the main room, I took in the mess around me. Well, it wasn't really a mess, but there were papers everywhere. It looked like a papier-mâché floor.

For some reason I just snapped. I grabbed a trash bag from the box under the sink and rushed around the room grabbing up large piles of it and throwing it in the bag. I had to get rid of all of it. I just couldn't stand having it in my apartment. All of it, all of it _had_ to go and _now_. I yanked sheet upon sheet from my floors, and in the end, I probably had enough paper for an entire tree. I stared around my apartment, searching for any sign, any hint, of another traitorous piece of evidence that proclaimed my unreasonable affection.

When at last I deemed the place clean of it all, I clutched the bag tighter in my hand. _What do I do with it?_ I couldn't burn it. That would look too suspicious. I couldn't just throw it away. It would be like throwing away my heart. Each poem was permanently and delicately etched into my soul. Each word, each letter was a part of me as much as my own limbs. Poetry could quite well be my goddess-given talent. Well, I couldn't have the wretched poems chipping away at my sanity and soul. I couldn't get rid of them, but I couldn't have them anywhere in my sight.

I gazed around my apartment again, this time searching for a place to shove these torturous mementos of an unspoken and nonexistent relationship. When my eyes finally rested on the slightly open door to my walk-in closet, I knew I found my answer. The back corner of my closet was filled with cardboard boxes I had yet to unpack. I ripped open the tape that bounded the top box closed and mercilessly tossed in the trash bag of poems. _Out of sight, out of mind, _my thoughts whispered comfortingly.

With my mission complete, I crumpled exhausted into the large wrought iron bed that occupied most of my bedroom space. "Oh goddess, what am I going to do about this mess?" I prayed more to myself and the ceiling above me than anything else.

I tucked myself under the deep red comforter that covered my bed and flipped off the lamp on my night stand before drifting off to sleep.

Or at least I thought I went to sleep.

When I opened my eyes I was standing in a picturesque little town with cobbled streets and stone buildings. I could smell the ocean water and hear the birds chirping. As I walked down the road taking in the little bistros and shops I felt completely blissful, like nothing could go wrong. I veered off course at the end of the cobbled path, walking into the woods before arriving at a small cozy meadow of sorts. Flowers galore bordered the edges of this tiny circle in the woods. The greenest grass peeked up from the earth, forming a soft cushion. Trees, tall and wide, poked through the ground, rising above me and bowing over the clearing. Through the green leaves the sunlight shimmered an emerald mist upon it, making this tiny space all the more heavenly.

None of the beauty of this goddess designed place even compared to that of the beauty stretched out on the grass blanket in front of me. She was a goddess in her own right, powerful, young, vibrate. She was a Monet, bursting with color yet keeping the soft subtleness of luminosity and persuasion. In her I saw brushstrokes of passion, color with vivacity and affection, yet the gentle persuasive fire that burn in her stubborn hazel eyes vexed me.

Everything about the creature lounging peacefully before me entranced my poetic soul. It reminded me so diligently of the passion for words I once possessed, pulled me from the tight grasp of inhumanity I was experiencing as a self proclaimed outsider.

"Do you plan to stare all day? Or are you going to join me, love?" She chuckled; a musical ringing that seemed to harmonize with the beautiful bird song that surrounded us.

I smiled and nodded my head, letting the words I had not chosen pour from my mouth, "Indeed, love. I find your beauty far too compelling to move from this spot." I wanted to smack my hand over my mouth and run for it, but I just smiled, feeling the crinkles in the corners of my eyes emerge as I gazed at her lovingly.

Zoey laughed lightly, her face forming a smile that caused my heart to sing, "Well, perhaps I should remove myself from your company. It is far too lovely a day for you to not be enjoying it as thoroughly as I."

I felt my head shake and my feet move forward before I plopped down on the soft earth beside her. Zoey rolled over, pressing herself against my side and letting her head rest on my chest and her hand press just above my stomach. I watched her face as she drifted her eyes closed and appeared to fall asleep.

This was my world, I thought to myself. I didn't know why, but it was. She and I were meant to be together and I could not argue it any longer. I sighed happily and let my lips graze the bright sapphire crescent on her forehead before closing my eyes and falling asleep in my dream next to Zoey.

****AN: Review! That is all I ask. Thank you =) NC** **


	7. Hiatus

****AN: **I sincerely apologize to any of you who are currently in the process of reading this fic. Unfortunately, something came up and I will be unable to update for about two weeks. Don't worry, I'm not abandoning the story and it will get finished. But I will not have internet access for the next two weeks so I won't be able to upload. This author's note will be deleted upon the insertion of the next chapter. Sorry for any inconvenience. Yours always, NC******


End file.
